


That You Choose to Be

by zarabithia



Category: Once Upon a Time (2011)
Genre: Community: fandom stocking, Multi, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 02:50:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each of them have their own rough edges. Fortunately, none of them seem to mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That You Choose to Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cero_ate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cero_ate/gifts).



> The title comes from the following quote: _"Dream and give yourself permission to envision a you that you choose to be." ~Joy Page_

He wonders, briefly, if this is a betrayal.

Ella's husband had counted him as a friend, after all, and it had not taken him long after Thomas' death to welcome Ella into the their bed.

But lying here, with Snow between them, makes it difficult to conceive of this as betrayal. Thomas is, after all, gone. Gone where, none of them know, though gods and fairies know they have searched everywhere for him.

Their search teams are going to _continue_ to look, no matter what has transpired last night, tonight, or what will transpire tomorrow night. Or the night after.

He is going to lead them, and he hopes he will find some sign... but if he does not, he will return here, to his wife and to Ella, and he will wrap his arms around his wife's thin frame and rest his hand upon Ella's still round stomach.

His hands lay there now, wrapped in hers. He can feel the calluses that have come from the hard work that is part of the story they all know.

"Proof that anyone can change her life," Snow is fond of saying, and has said many times this night, with Ella's callused hands in her hair and Snow's mouth making a steady, determined path along Ella's stomach.

He supposes, as he often does, that his wife is correct. But he also wonders, with his hands tangled in Ella's, if his own calluses give away the life of the windmill as easily as hers betray the life of a maid.

~~

Neither of them are what Ella expects.

Not that she has thought of this ... often. Though she would be lying if she tries to claim that she has not noticed the width of James' shoulders or the mischievous warmth that always seems to beckon from Snow's smile.

But no, never has she allowed herself the freedom to truly _think_ of how it could feel to lie here, like this.

It's just as well, because if ever she had allowed those thoughts, her imagination could never have been quite so vivid as to conjure the right taste of James' neck or the right combination of gentleness and force that Snow uses to bring her the breath-draining climax that Thomas never has.

But more than the pleasure they give, their bodies surprise her. Oh, certainly, they are both beautiful, of that there is no doubt. But it is the roughened skin that lies scattered across their bodies - knees, fingers, heels, lips - that delight Ella so much.

She has those patches, too, of course. But since her marriage, her ladies in waiting have spent much time trying to scrub and massage them away, and her husband's hands always falter when they pass over those spots. His pauses are always accompanied by a frown, one that matches the disapproving looks on her ladies' faces.

"It's okay," Thomas has always said, as his hands traveled to softer regions of her flesh, "in time, they'll fade away and nobody will be able to tell that you were ever a mere maid."

Ella has waited, patiently, for that to be true, for many months, but despite the stubborn scrubbing, lotions that irritate her nose worse than any amount of dirt and soap ever did and the repeated massages, the rough spots remain.

But with Snow and her Prince Charming, Ella doesn't have to wait. With them, she always feels like she has always been a princess.

~~

The bed Snow shares with her husband has always seemed a little bit too large.

On lazy nights between just the two of them, Snow has wrapped her legs around her husband, pulling him close, and laughingly made her complaint known. His smile, always teasing, yet always warm, indulges her needy thrusts with kisses, but that does not stop him from asking, "would you rather we lie on the forest floor with a bunch of dirty elves?"

Snow tilts her husband's head to meet her gaze and answers boldly, _"Yes."_

It's not entirely true, but it is not entirely a lie, either.

On the nights that Ella joins them, Snow lies next to her and threads her fingers through Ella's golden locks. Snow has heard every story, about every bruised knuckle and scrubbing brush, and although it may just be her imagination, Snow thinks she can smell a bit of the forest if she breathes deeply enough into Ella's hair.

Later, when they all lie still, Snow closes her eyes and the forest invades her dreams; she is back in that forest where the huntsman left her, once again. She is running, cloak flapping in the wind, bluebirds singing all around her.

Only this time, she has not only a handsome prince running with her on one side, but a beautiful princess on the other.

~~


End file.
